


A Ravishing Sweetness

by misqueue



Series: Nights of Hedonia [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Cultural Differences, Erotic Space Opera, Erotica, Exhibitionism, Hedonism, Innocence, Intimacy, M/M, Multi, Public Sex, Romance, Sexual Discovery, Sexual Inexperience, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misqueue/pseuds/misqueue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Nights of Hedonia preview/snippet] Blaine asks Kurt to take him to the Garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Ravishing Sweetness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeasouffle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeasouffle/gifts).



> A snippet from _Nights of Hedonia_ (probably chapter 17 or 18) for two fanniversary prompts I received (subject to revisions if/when it gets incorporated into the main story; no major plot spoilers)
>
>> likearumchocolatesouffle asked: Prompt: Something about the gardens in Nights of Hedonia. People (Blaine perhaps?) watching other people have public sex? :D :D
>> 
>> Anonymous asked: I would love anything with Kurt and Blaine from Nights of Hedonia. Would Blaine brave going back to the dances now that he’s with Kurt…?
> 
> Title nabbed from Chaucer's poem, "The Parliament of Fowls". 

"Do you want to sleep over?" Kurt asks as they walk from the spa to the lifts. The corridors are dimmed to a gentle amber for night and they haven’t chosen a destination yet. "Or do you need to sleep in your quarters tonight?" Kurt gestures at his own temple to indicate Blaine’s rig. He’s aware of the privacy issues Blaine’s been having.

Issues Blaine cares little for tonight. He can’t do anything about his rig’s location monitoring, but he’s not going to let Hunter’s prying keep him corralled. The deep muscle massage and heat treatments at the spa have him unable to summon the smallest twinge of reluctance. Kurt’s hand is an intimate pressure at his waist, and Kurt’s smile and gaze are all for him. Blaine wants to kiss the curve of his mouth. And he could, right here, if he chose to. It’s a heady thought. “I’d like to stay with you tonight,” Blaine says, leaning into Kurt’s shoulder as they walk. “And I want to wake up with you and your sunrise. Tomorrow is my half-day, so Trent will be taking care of the Ambassador in the morning. She won’t need me until after lunch.”

"Oh!" Kurt’s smile broadens. "So you don’t need to be anywhere early?"

Blaine shakes his head.

"I’ll ask Mercedes to take care of breakfast, and we can have an extremely lazy and excessively pleasurable morning together."

"That sounds exceedingly wonderful," Blaine says, and Kurt laughs.

They make it to the lift. “Since neither of us has an early start, is there anything else you’d like to do this evening before we turn in?” Kurt asks.

The question has been hanging in the back of Blaine’s mind for a few days now. He can’t think of a reason not to ask. “Would you show me the Garden tonight?”

Kurt’s lips part and his eyes warm. “Are you saying you’d like to make love there tonight?” He gestures for Blaine to precede him into the lift.

"Um. I don’t know? But I… I want to see them after dark. I nearly went the other night on my own, because I was curious, but I didn’t know if—" Blaine pauses to gather himself, lowers his gaze. "I got scared. I realized I didn’t know if that was something people did, go there to walk and look around? Or I worried I’d be unwelcome as an outsider. I didn’t want to be rude or inappropriate." He laughs self-consciously. "And I didn’t want to get lost."

"You should have spoken me sooner, Blaine, if you were scared?" Kurt’s hand is gentle beneath Blaine’s chin, tipping his face up and searching his gaze. "I don’t want you to be scared."

The lift doors close and they sink. “I’m not scared when I’m with you,” Blaine reassures. “Not any more, but when I’m alone, sometimes…” He closes his eyes, focuses on the pressure of Kurt’s fingertips at his throat. “It’s a lot harder,” he whispers.

"Harder because you fear people knowing? You fear what they’d do if they found out and what they’d think of you?"

"Yes," Blaine says.

"I wish I could make this easier for you, but please believe me when I say shame is a wasted emotion. You’ve no cause to submit yourself to other people’s judgments about your private pleasures or your heart’s intimate desires. It’s none of their concern, and frankly, they’re the ones who should feel shame, for being so intrusive and bigoted."

Blaine opens his eyes, “I’m trying to very hard to believe that,” he says.

"Well," Kurt says, tilting his head and leaning in. His eyes crinkle with affection. "I believe I can help you with that." His lips meet Blaine’s, soft and warm and Blaine sighs helplessly.

#

Kurt leads him through the braided arch of branches, beneath the clusters of pink glowing flowers, and into the fragrant velvet nighttime of the Garden. Blaine trails behind, oriented in the clasp of Kurt’s hand around his. His heart beats high in his throat.

The songs of nocturnal insects and frogs have replaced the birdsong of the daytime, a constant rise and fall of rhythmic hums and croaks that blankets the murmur of flowing water. It’s so even in its cadence, Blaine could time his breathing to it in meditation—if that’s what he were here for. He imagines the colorful songbirds tucked in their nests, sleeping. He watches his hand in Kurt’s and the pale path beneath their feet.

And nearly runs into Kurt when he stops.

"Hey," Kurt says with a soft laugh. "You still with me?"

"Yes," Blaine replies hastily and he looks up.

Kurt’s free hand finds his other, interleaving their fingers, and he steps closer to Blaine. Golden spheres of light pulse and drift around them, casting Kurt’s beautiful face in soft blooms of light and shadow. “Okay so far?”

"Yes," Blaine says, smiles. The entrance is a discordant bright shape in his peripheral vision. "We can go farther in than this," he says.

A plaintive cry breaks over the ambient soundscape. Something about it—the frequency or the naked yearning—pierces Blaine, hot and sharp. He whimpers reflexively. The cry comes again: harsher, louder. Insistent. Blaine casts his attention about, tries to determine the direction. It sounds close.

"Still okay?" Kurt asks, humor in the quirk of his lips, but he doesn’t wait for Blaine to answer, he dips his head down and rubs the tip of his nose against Blaine’s neck. The cry comes again, faster, hoarse and high, desperate and again, again, quicker and quicker as if reaching for something—then, rising in pitch, drawn out long and exultant. Finally quieting into gasps of relief and laughter. Blaine realizes what he’s just heard. His whole body flushes with arousal. He tips his head back as Kurt nuzzles along his pulse.

"That was someone… having an orgasm?" he asks to confirm.

"Mmhm," Kurt murmurs against his throat, his teeth scrape Blaine’s skin then, and he steps closer, erasing the span of air between them. His hip brushes across Blaine’s growing erection, a teasing and deliberate sweep back and forth. Another voice comes in the night, an affectionate murmur that breaks off with a groan. Blaine can’t make out words. "Sounds like they’re still going," Kurt says. "Do you want to go see?"

"If that’s… appropriate? I’m curious."

"People often come here in order to be seen," Kurt says. "Especially if they’re being that loud. Think of it as a performance. They’ll appreciate an audience."

"Oh…" Blaine says.

“Come with me,” Kurt says, and he tugs Blaine’s hand.

Dizzy, Blaine follows Kurt deeper into the enveloping life of the gardens, along a winding trail. The Garden’s entrance disappears behind them. Blaine doesn’t pay attention to the turns or the forks in the path that Kurt takes. Kurt seems to know where he’s going, so Blaine lets himself be lost. The unintelligible conversation, pleasured moans, and intimate laughter grow louder and easier to discriminate. Kurt slows as they approach the end of the path where it widens into a circular clearing and moves aside for Blaine to step out first. Maybe it’s a glade or a lawn. Blaine isn’t sure what to call the manicured grassy expanse before him. And he can’t care very much about the particular taxonomy of garden spaces, for upon a broad round couch in the center, are three naked people.

One of them is—he thinks—the girl who works in the gym. She’s on her knees and elbows, her blond hair swept over one shoulder, and her peaked breasts hanging below her, swaying with the motion of her body. She’s settled between the open legs of another woman, dark haired and dusky skinned, kissing the curve of the woman’s belly while one of her hands works even lower, doing something to the woman’s genitals that Blaine can’t quite see, but which has the woman lying before her arching and panting and pleading. Kneeling behind the blonde woman is a man, muscular and tan like Sam, but with shaggy dark hair and a close-trimmed beard. He’s squeezing her ass with one hand while, with the other, he drags the crown of his cock up and down and between the shining swollen lips of her sex, intermittently making her thighs shake and her breath escape in needful groans.

Blaine’s never seen an entirely naked woman before—and aside from himself and Kurt he’s never seen an entirely naked man either. He doesn’t know all the words in any language to describe what he’s viewing. But watching their pleasure, he doesn’t need them. His body understands in some primal, pre-verbal manner. It’s embedded in his cells, and she’s the one he just heard climax. He stares at the slide of the man’s cock against the girl’s body and it’s like he can feel it himself, some strange sympathetic blended memory of sensation, not only of the press of Kurt’s cock between his thighs and his buttocks, but also of the lush generosity of Kurt’s mouth opening around him.

"Kurt," Blaine reaches back for him blindly, needing the feel of his skin, his heat and physicality.

And Kurt is right there for him, moving near, warm and solid against his back, breath soft by his ear, raising a hot chill upon Blaine’s skin. Blaine grabs an unsatisfying fistful of Kurt’s shirt and leans back against him. “Do you want to watch them for a while?” Kurt asks. His hands fold over Blaine’s shoulders and squeeze. The hard ridge of his cock presses against Blaine’s ass.

"I—?" Blaine says and his voice gives out. He can’t look away from the erotic tableau before him, and his blood simmers a prickling heat within him, as if he were the one being touched or doing the touching. If Kurt touched him now, on his cock, he’s certain he’d come swiftly.

"I promise, it’s entirely expected. Look, do you see? We’re not the only ones here," Kurt says. Around the perimeter of the clearing, beneath the low hanging branches of trees and nestled among hedges and shrubbery, Blaine finds Kurt is correct. Others, couples, trios, and a few single people take up benches and couches and long reclining chairs, their attention is upon the lovers on display, but their hands are on themselves and their own companions. None of the people watching are completely naked or engaged as intimately as those they watch, but their clothing is in disarray. Blaine catches glimpses of bare skin and movement in the dim bursts of illumination. "Do you want to stay?" Kurt asks.

“Yeah,” he tries to reply, but it’s all air and no volume, so Blaine nods and says more decisively, “yes.”

"Let’s find a place to recline," Kurt says. "All right?"

Kurt’s arm around him is stronger than Blaine’s legs feel, and he’s grateful for it as Kurt steers him past a few vacant benches to an elongated chair with a low scrolled headrest. It’s wide enough for them both. Kurt sits first, stretches out his legs and scoots to the side to make room for Blaine; he smiles encouragingly and extends a hand to Blaine.

Blaine lies down with him, on his side, facing the trio of lovers. Kurt’s hand rests on his waist, and his chest is flush behind Blaine’s shoulders. “They’re beautiful, don’t you think?” Kurt murmurs and his fingers find the magnetic snaps of Blaine’s shirt, nimbly separating each pair between thumb and forefinger.

"Yeah," Blaine says, and he shivers as Kurt slips his hand under the fabric of his shirt and passes over his bare chest, catching a nipple beneath his fingers. "What are you doing?" Blaine asks.

"Enhancing our enjoyment," Kurt says. "Though, I should tell you, it’s considered impolite for a person watching to have an orgasm before those putting on the display have finished. It’s like applauding an orchestra while they’re still playing."

"I understand," Blaine says, and then the dark haired girl cries out louder. The blond girl has her mouth on her, between her legs, and from this angle, Blaine can see more, how the blond girl’s working her fingers inside while licking quick strokes up higher. "Oh gods," Blaine says. She’s going to come soon, and he feels his own arousal like a roiling inferno under his skin, his balls ache and his cock throbs and his throat dries around harsh shallow breaths.

"You’re okay," Kurt says, raking his fingertips down to Blaine’s waistband, leaving tingling trails in their wake. "Watch them, it’s okay. Try to relax."

"Kurt," Blaine gasps as Kurt undoes his fly and slides his hand inside, and it’s just the thin layer of his underwear between his cock and Kurt’s hot palm. He just cups Blaine, doesn’t rub or stroke, and for that Blaine is grateful, though his whole body vibrates with the urge to rut against Kurt’s hand, to just— Blaine clenches his jaw and resists the urge.

Dimly, he registers several things at once: First, that other people are looking at him. A couple across the clearing catch his eye: two men, their attention is both curious and hot, and Blaine’s head swims. Second, the man in the center is pushing his cock into the blonde girl’s body and she’s making the hungriest sounds, muffled into the other girl’s intimate parts, where she’s sucking now, noisy and wet. Third, the dark haired girl is coming.

Fourth, and most potentially devastating, Kurt is starting to move his hand now, squeezing, slowly applying more pressure as the girl’s wordless pleas become a harsh wail, and her body snaps taut. “Breathe, honey, just breathe,” Kurt says, and his fingers are tight around him and dragging down, and it—strangely—helps calm the urgency gathering in his belly. Blaine tries to relax all the tension in his body and takes Kurt’s advice to breathe. He knows how to breathe.

So he breathes and floats, immersed in the sharp heat that’s flooding in his body and swamping his brain. The ache of his arousal bleeds along his nerves, dispersing the singular focus of his craving, but it’s all still contained within him. His head is muzzy, but he’s wide awake. He divides his attention between the trio of lovers and the pair of men on the far side. He watches them watch him and Kurt, and he imagines them—he and Kurt—being the center of attention, being the ones performing for the enjoyment of others, of people witnessing their lovemaking and their pleasure as something beautiful. He imagines himself naked in front of a crowd and Kurt with him. For a long moment, he closes his eyes and relishes Kurt’s hands on him, the damp caress of Kurt’s lips at his neck, the firm line of his body tucked up behind, the lightness of the air on his skin where his shirt has fallen open.

The man is the last to come, driving into the blond woman’s body with singular focus. She comes again before he does, with the dark haired woman smiling and petting soothingly through her hair. They are beautiful.


End file.
